Chapter 20

Mr. Jones

There was something about this whole cultivation process that Emma had failed to mention. Sure, she’d warned me that once I started the final act to push from iron to copper, that I couldn’t stop. That it was an all or nothing type of effort. What she hadn’t mentioned, which, granted, could have been because she didn’t know, was the pain I would experience by putting off that final step.

It started as a throb, a dull ache, the sort that was more uncomfortable and inconvenient than anything else. But by the time we were ‘bout two days out from Lincoln, it was all I could do to not wince in pain with every damned movement. I’d filled my core with as much pure, raw mana from the world as I could safely. Looking internally, most my body swirled in a chaotic manner of pure, bright mana, which crashed against the walls I’d built around it. Only a thin layer, visually say the thickness of a finger round my whole body, showed the mixed mana that was a part of me. I’d drained everything else. Emptied everything else. In preparation of the next step. And honestly, it was all I could do to not try and rush it. Because the pain made me want to die.

“We’re almost there,” Emma said softly as I sat in the wagon, groaning with every damned bump and rattle. Usually I didn’t care about the comfort of a ride. After all, being in a wagon beat walking in the heat almost always. Now though, it was like the road saved all the greatest bumps and damned wheel ruts for the final leg of the journey. Though, logically I knew that wasn’t the case. This close to a big ‘ol town like Lincoln, the path was actually smoother than the roads had been when we’d set off. I was just that much more sensitive to everything right now.

“Sayin’ it ain’t gonna make us get there any faster.” I half groaned; half growled. I pulled my hat lower over my eyes, the increased pain I was dealing with having manifested with it a mighty painful headache.

“You could always let it all go.” Emma offered up, as she nudged a cool cup into my hands. I took the offered water and drank deeply. The liquid, infused with her mana, offered a small bit of comfort. But it was like pissing on a damned bonfire to try and put it out. The relief was imagined, more than anything.

“I can deal with the pain.” I said as I held the cup back out towards her. She took it, and I wiped my lips and chin, clearing up the few droplets that had missed my mouth when I drank. “If I started over, it’d be a waste of time. And—”

“— and you don’t want to waste any more time.” She cut me off. We’d had the is conversation more than once. The closer we’d gotten to Lincoln, the more impatient I’d grown. I wanted to reach our destination. Wanted to be free from the crowded confines of the caravan. I felt trapped and impatient. The sooner we put this all behind us, the better. We’d reach Lincoln, we’d resupply, and I’d push my core to Copper. The moment that was done, we’d head North, just the three of us. Pickam’s words were all I had to go off of, after all. And the sooner we reached the Black Hills, the better. I could suffer this pain, if it meant ensuring the trail didn’t go cold.

“If you already know what I’m gonna say,” I said, my voice gruffer than intended. “Why make me say it.”

“Because I keep hoping you’d stop your stubborn ways.” She replied curtly. “You’re pale, you’re drenched in sweat, and you’re touchier than a dog that’d gone and got a face full of porcupine quills. Yet even worse, because you could relieve your pain in an instant. You could help yourself, if you’d just stop being so damned stubborn.”

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“It ain’t stubbornness,” I countered. “It’s about efficiency. I can suffer a few more days, if it means we reach the Black Hills sooner. I cannot afford to start the whole process over once we’re in Lincoln. Let’s say I did,” I lifted my hat slightly to look at her, squinting against the sunlight that caused my head to pound. “What then? We hold up in some inn? I sit around, cultivating away, over multiple damned days, while you and Clint do what? Twiddle your thumbs? Every second we’re in Lincoln, is another second people can find out who we are. Another second your Uncle has of potentially tracking you down.”

She flinched at that, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. Normally, I’d pull back. But right now, raw as I was, with the feeling of surely the equivalent of being flayed alive over a fire rushing through my body, I kept pushing. “You’re on the run now, Miss Watts. We can’t just waste time on things that are more ‘comfortable’ or convenient. I make the choices I do, I suffer as I do, because I have to. Because I can. I’ll gladly pay in pain across a few days, if it means I’m one step closer to my vengeance. And if you’re insisting on coming along for the ride, you’ll have to learn quite quickly that life on the run, ain’t for the weak of heart.”

Her eyes hardened, and she clenched her jaw. The way she lifted her head slightly and pushed her shoulders back, as she prepared to speak, sent a chill down my spine. I’d poke at her, thinking I could hurt her. Thinking I’d keep her from pestering me, get her to quit talking down at me, quit trying to tell me to give up on my cultivation efforts and plans. Apparently though, I’d pushed hard enough to bring something else out.

“You think I don’t know pain?” she asked. Her voice was ice. “You think I don’t know suffering?” Somehow, the way she was looking at me, made me feel small. Before we’d played what felt like a game of cat and mouse. Now though, she seemed fiercer. She was no mere predator. She was something more.

“You’re in pain, and you’re suffering.” She continued. “Which is why I know you’re not quite yourself. And I’ll forgive you, for your foolish words and accusations. But,” she reached out and grabbed my hand. It wasn’t a comforting touch though. She gripped my hand tight, with strength to match my own. Pain flared through my arm. “Don’t think you’ve suffered more than me, don’t think you’re some great man capable of enduring the weight of the world, and I’m just a soft little princess. You’ve your demons, your tragedies and traumas of your past that haunt you. You’ve your revenge, that you’re hunting. I know those feelings, I know that life, and its why I’m choosing to accompany you. If anything, Mr. Jones,” she leaned forward, drawing so close the brim of my hat actually pressed against the skin of her forehead, “you’re the weakest one here, in body and mind, far as I can tell. And if you can’t even keep your emotions in check while your healthy and fit, and you sure as hell can’t keep them in line when you’re inconvenienced, then you’re going to be the biggest threat to your own goals.”

She let go of my hand and stood without another word. I watched her go as she hefted her dress and climbed out the wagon. Clint looked back at me, a smile on his face. The old soldier let out a whistle and shook his head.

“You’ve done a lot of stupid things so far,” he said with a chuckle as he met my gaze, “but that right there, was probably the dumbest to date.” He laughed again as he turned his back once more to me, leaving me to myself, and my thoughts. I sat there, feeling every jolt and jerk of the wagon as it rattled along, the sound of horses and wood and the occasional voice all nought but white noise, as my mind replayed everything. I knew Miss Watts had some sort of past. Considering her blood relatives, considering her father’s not so natural, sudden death, it made sense she had a past. But the way she spoke, the way she’d changed just there, told me there was more to her. So much more. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that that thought didn’t intrigue me.